


Always-A-Girl!Danny Bits and Pieces

by CitrusVanille



Series: Man! I Feel Like a Woman! [2]
Category: McFly
Genre: Always-a-girl!Danny, Angst, Chocolate, F/M, Flirting, Fluff, Genderswap, Living Together, M/M, Pigtail Pulling, Protectiveness, Sexism, unwanted flirting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-12
Updated: 2018-07-12
Packaged: 2019-06-09 06:30:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15261462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CitrusVanille/pseuds/CitrusVanille
Summary: Snippets from a 'verse in which Danny is a girl.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [You're the One that I Want](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11505573) by [CitrusVanille](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CitrusVanille/pseuds/CitrusVanille). 

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Danny first discovers that Harry is a jerk.

When Danny first meets Harry she thinks it must be some kind of joke. Or there was a mix-up. Something. Because no way in hell is she going to put up with some flashy, pretty-boy, rich-kid. He can’t write, can’t sing, all he does is bang around on his drums. And Danny has as much respect and love for drummers as the next girl – they’re a necessary part of any decent band and she appreciates that, she does – but this is pushing it.

She says as much to Tom when he tells her Harry’s ‘it.’ “He’s an arse,” she adds, “a stuck up, public school twat.”

“Danny,” Tom sighs, but Danny’s not finished.

“He thinks he’s better than everyone because his family’s got money, posh bastard. Grew up swanning around his bloody country estate. Plus, he’s a fucking chauvinist.” That’s right, she said it. Knows what it means, too.

Tom blinks at her. “He doesn’t give a fuck you’re a girl, Dan.”

“I saw the way he looked at me,” she snaps back. “Like I was just there for a fucking decoration. You’d never know I had a face.”

Tom sighs again, and he’s really good at that ‘I am so put-upon’ thing. “Then tell him you’ve got a face, Dan, ‘cause he’s _it_. He’s our drummer.”

“Fuck that,” Danny says with feeling, but she knows it won’t do any good.

+

Their first official practice as a band, and Danny hasn’t changed her opinion in the slightest. Harry’s still an admittedly good drummer, but he’s also still a fucking wanker.

“Knock it off,” she finally snaps at him, halfway through a break.

“Excuse me?” his words are smooth and precise, and it’s not really a question, but it’s not an apology either. Danny wants to punch him in his stupid swanky mouth.

“Could you look at my face when you’re talking to me?” she asks, fingers clenched tight on her guitar to keep from clicking in front of his stupid aristocratic nose. Tom’s giving her warning looks and Dougie has somehow managed to fade into the background – she barely knows the kid, but it’s already clear he’s going to be good at that.

“What do you mean?” Harry asks, and his eyes are still fixed several inches below hers.

Danny grits her teeth for a minute, trying to find patience, then gives up. “I don’t stare at your cock when I’m talking to you, so don’t stare at my tits.”

“I – what?” his gaze jerks up to her face.

“Better,” she tells him, but she’d still like to smash him a facer. “Ogle my boobs like that again, and I’ll knock you on your pervy arse. Got it?”

Tom groans audibly as Harry blinks rapidly at her, clearly a little stunned. He recovers quickly though, and smirks at her. “Come on, do you really think you could take me?”

Tom makes some kind of strangled noise, but Danny’s ignoring him. She really, really wants to wipe that stupid smug expression off Harry’s face. She stalks closer until the only thing between them is her guitar and about an inch of air, then leans even farther in so they’re practically nose to nose. She’s pleased to note she’s not much more than an inch shorter than he is – she won’t think about how she’s mostly done growing and he’s probably got another couple inches to go. “Don’t push me, Judd,” she hisses, letting her voice drop lower, and feels extremely gratified when he steps back. Even if it is just an automatic response to someone invading his space.

Tom moves in closer, then, pushing between them with an exasperated frown. “Just leave it, you two,” he says, nudging Danny back towards her mic stand and giving Harry a bit of a shove towards the drum kit. “Harry will remember you are a human being, Danny, cleavage and all, and Danny will try not to be offended when Harry cannot contain his innate maleness.”

“I do _not_ have cleavage!” Danny snaps, waving vaguely at her over-sized tee-shirt, right as Harry protests, “I can so contain it!” and they both glare at each other.

“Then contain it,” Tom tells Harry shortly. “And Danny, hard as it is to believe, you are a girl with big boobs no matter what kind of shirts you wear. Get used to it.” He holds up a hand with a warning look when they both open their mouths. “I don’t want to hear it. You’re wasting time, and you’re both being right pains. So shut up unless you have something useful to say about the music.”

Danny shuts her mouth, but turns to scowl once last time at Harry. He returns it, but Tom is already beckoning Dougie back over, and, yeah, they are wasting time. She flicks her fingers over her guitar strings out of habit, making sure they’re still in tune. She can totally wait until after practice to knock some sense into their drummer. Not like he’s going anywhere.

She nods at Tom to let him know she’s ready. He nods back and gestures for Harry to start. As they launch into 5 Colours, Danny feels her lips turn up in a bit of a grin. It’s been a while since she’s been in any kind of real fight, and she kind of misses it. The end of practice should be fun.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one where Danny has her period and Harry is an arse.

“Danny’s leaking,” Dougie announces at breakfast.

Danny chokes on her coffee, coughs so hard her eyes start tearing.

Tom hits her back, says, “Careful, Danny, breathe,” but she waves him off, rasps, “I’m all right, just – wrong pipe,” and reminds herself that Dougie is smaller than she is, she is not allowed to hit him. No matter how much she might want to.

Satisfied that Danny’s not about to die, Tom turns back to Dougie. “She’s what?”

“She’s leaking,” Dougie says again, looking far too smug by half, like he’s made some kind of great discovery.

Danny really, really wants to hit him. This is not information that needs to be made public. Ever. She’s not even sure how he found out – she’s been careful.

“Dougie, you don’t make any sense,” Harry complains, and Tom looks equally confused.

Danny would really like for Dougie to drop this. Right now. Before either Tom or Harry wakes up enough to crack Dougie’s less-than-subtle code. “Shut up, Dougie,” she says through gritted teeth, and hopes he gets the message.

Clearly not, because he just looks triumphant and says, “See? That’s why she’s been so pissy lately! We should get her pickles.”

And now Danny’s confused too, because – pickles? Seriously? “I’m not _pregnant_ , Dougie,” she huffs. “That’s kind of the point.” And maybe she shouldn’t have said that, because Tom and Harry both get that look like someone’s just turned on a light, and then Harry breaks down laughing.

“Not funny,” Danny says, aiming a sharp kick under the table at Harry’s shin.

“Ow!” Harry gropes at his abused leg, but he’s still laughing, the fucker.

“Fuck you lot,” she says, shoving her chair back from the table. And she knows stomping out of the kitchen and up to her room is just going to make them take the piss again later, but she’s tired, cramping, and generally hating her life right now, so. She’ll deal with them later.

She supposes she should be glad she’s not going to have to pretend to be perfectly fine this time around – it’s really sucked the last couple months – but she’d almost rather that than having to deal with a bunch of boys being wankers about it. It’s not like she can do anything about it. She slams her door for extra emphasis. It makes her feel a little better.

+

Tom offers to make her tea no less than five times before dinner that night. Danny would think it was sweet if he wasn’t so obviously embarrassed about it. She wonders briefly if he’s trying to make up for the months they were living together in the hotel and he never caught on, but she’s pretty sure he’s just naturally an amazing – if awkward – human being. Maybe she can adopt him.

Dougie, clearly having seen the error of his ways – for once – has stopped talking again, and has more or less become Tom’s second shadow whenever Danny’s around. It’s pretty funny. Or it would be if Danny wasn’t so distracted by the way she sort of wants to curl up in a ball and die. She really hates being a girl, sometimes.

At least it means Tom and Dougie – if Tom’s around as well – are extra willing to curl up with her on the sofa, or in her bed if she can’t make it downstairs. They’re both warm and comfortable, and Tom gives amazing backrubs, fingers working gentle circles low on her back to help ease the cramps. She kind of loves them for it, and appreciates that, awkward as they may be, having them wrapped around her like living heating pads makes her hate her life just a little bit less.

Harry, however, has only managed to confirm what an arsehole he is.

“Wow, you look pathetic,” he says when he sees her curled up alone on the couch after lunch, clutching an electric heating pad (Dougie and Tom have gone out to find her chocolate brownie fudge ice cream, as per her request, because they love her, and are sweet like that) and watching infomercials on the television because the remote control is across the room so she can’t change the station. “Like something the dog dragged in.”

“Shut up,” she growls. And he just laughs.

“Shouldn’t you be eating chocolate, or something?” he asks next morning, finding her huddled over the cup of tea Tom finally guilted her into accepting.

“I haven’t got any,” she snaps, half-wishing she hadn’t finished her ice cream the night before, “so unless you’re offering it, fuck off.”

“Oh, testy,” he chuckles, and she kind of wants to punch him, but he’s too far away. “Guess it’s true what they say about women on the rag.”

And Danny. Danny is trying to be good, she really is – more because she’s not really feeling up to a fight and because Harry has conveniently been out of range every time he’s opened his stupid mouth than anything else – and she’s generally a pretty laid back person. But Harry gets under her skin like no one else, and he just keeps pushing.

So it’s really not her fault when, halfway through the afternoon, the day after Dougie’s pain-in-the-arse announcement, the four of them are arguing about cereal brands and Harry says, “Are you always this dumb, or are you just bleeding out all of your brain cells?” and Danny punches him in the stomach. Hard.

“What the fuck?” Harry gasps, bending over and pressing his hands against his stomach. “That’s going to fucking bruise!”

Danny can’t help feeling the satisfaction she feels at the pained tone is his voice. “Next time it will be right in your stupid face,” she tells him. “And if you pull that shit again, I won’t think twice about kneeing you.”

Dougie makes a choking noise from behind Tom. Danny looks up in time to see Tom wince, but he’s giving Harry a you-brought-this-on-yourself-and-you-deserve-it kind of look, so she still feels pretty vindicated.

A few hours later the doorbell rings, and Danny and Dougie get there at the same time. It’s the same delivery guy they usually get when they order take away pizza – his name is Chris and he’s probably only a year or two older than Danny, and cute – and Danny’s been sort of half-flirting with him for the past few weeks.

She doesn’t remember until she’s gotten the door open that she’s kind of a mess – rattiest sweatpants, giant tee-shirt, and she hasn’t straightened her hair – but it’s not like she usually dresses up, so. She grins when she takes the pizza boxes – knows she has a great smile – and balances them on one hip while she pays him.

“Mm, food,” Tom tugs the boxes out of her arms, shoving one in Harry’s direction and opening the other.

“What’re you wearing?” Harry flicks Danny’s shoulder – and what the hell? She’s been wearing this all day – then turns very deliberately to Chris and says, “Don’t mind her, that time of the month, you know,” and gives him a cheery salute before letting the door swing shut.

It’s only Tom and Dougie both grabbing her and hauling her back that keep Danny from launching herself at Harry, because, seriously, what the fuck?

“Danny, Danny, we need our drummer,” Tom grits, trying to hang on to her.

“What the fuck’s the problem, anyway?” Harry crosses his arms over his chest and lifts an eyebrow at her. “Just because you’re –”

“Shut up, Harry,” Tom snaps.

“I don’t –”

“Just shut up and stop being such a fucking arsehole, would you?”

Danny stops struggling. She appreciates Tom’s help, she does, but it’s not his job to take care of her. “Tom, I’m fine,” she says.

He doesn’t relax his grip, though Dougie does. “We have an interview tomorrow,” he says. “No one’s going to buy that he fell down the stairs if you give him a black eye.”

“I’m not going to punch him in the face,” she says. “I just don’t want to be anywhere near him. Let me go.”

Tom hesitates a moment, then releases her.

She picks up the pizza box Tom dropped. “I’m taking this,” she says, because she’s pissed as hell, but she’s still starving.

No one says anything, and she walks out.

She’s halfway up the stairs when she hears Tom say, voice low, “Too far, Harry. I warned you before. This shit has to stop. Now. If you can’t keep your mouth shut, then stay the hell away from her until she’s not feeling like something a train ran over. I won’t stop her next time, and you can explain why you look like a raccoon.”

Danny climbs the rest of the stairs as quietly as she can, and makes sure her door doesn’t bang. She really doesn’t want to hear Harry’s response.

+

Danny’s sitting in the dressing room with Tom and Dougie before their interview. She hasn’t seen Harry since the night before, so she guesses he actually listened to Tom. That’s probably a good thing, but they kind of need him there for the interview, or there are going to be awkward questions. She wonders if Tom figures it will be easier to answer questions about the absence of their drummer than it would be to explain away any inappropriate bruises he might be sporting.

Harry comes through the door five minutes later, though, and makes a beeline for her. Both Tom and Dougie have matching expressions – like they’re just waiting for the shit to hit the fan and have resigned themselves to the consequences.

“Here,” Harry says, stopping in front of her and shoving a green bag in her face.

Danny jerks back in surprise. “What?”

“You said you didn’t have any, so.” Harry shifts uncomfortably and shakes the bag. 

She takes it, blinking at the gold lettering on the plastic. “Um.”

Harry frowns at her for a moment, then shakes his head and walks over to Tom.

Danny opens the bag, and stares for a moment at the white box inside – it’s almost the size of both her fists together.

“Is that from _Harrods_?” Dougie asks, coming over to lean on the back of her chair and hook his chin over her shoulder.

“Think so,” Danny pulls the box out.

“What is it?”

“Um,” Danny unfolds the lid and holds it up for Dougie’s inspection. It’s full of chocolate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dougie's first line is actually a thing a male friend said when we were 12 or 13 (about another friend, not about me). We were in the cafeteria at school at the time. Not cool.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry's secretly a nice guy.

It’s late when Danny gets home from the bar, and she’s still drunk enough that she has trouble getting the front door open, fumbling her keys and having trouble getting the right one in the lock. She’s expecting everyone to be asleep, but there’s a light on in the living room, and when she stumbles in, Harry looks up from the book he’s reading.

“Fun night?” he raises an eyebrow at her as she leans against the wall.

“Great night,” she grins, covers a yawn.

He laughs. “Glad to hear it.”

She grins again and turns to head up to bed, fighting another yawn. The room sways a little as she moves, and she clutches at the doorframe.

“You all right to get upstairs?” Harry asks, and he’s putting his book down and getting to his feet before she can answer.

“Yeah, I’m good, I’m good,” she says, but lets him hook an arm around her waist and help her towards the stairs.

She ends up having to lean so heavily on him that he’s practically carrying her, but the alcohol’s wearing off fast, now, and she’s too exhausted to be anything but grateful for the help. Tomorrow she can be annoyed, and embarrassed, and wonder what the hell happened to the snarky arsehole she’s used to. But for now, she lets him maneuver her up to her bedroom, dump her onto the mattress, and help her tug her shoes and jeans off. She feels like she should make some sort of a comment about him taking her jeans off, but her eyes are already closing.

“Come on, under the covers,” he says, and pushes at her side until she rolls enough for him to pull the sheet and duvet out from under her and tuck her in.

“You make a good mama bear,” she mumbles at him, and hears his sigh.

“G’night, Dan,” he says, tucks the blankets a little more firmly around her, and turns to go.

“Hey,” she says, grabbing at his wrist. He turns to look at her. “Thanks,” she says, lets her lips curl up into a smile, tightens her fingers for a moment, then releases.

He huffs another sigh, but she can tell he’s not really annoyed.

She lets her eyes close, and she’s half-asleep already, but she feels him brush the hair out of her face and press a kiss to her forehead.

“Get some sleep,” he whispers, almost too soft to hear.

She means to stop him again, ask why he’s being so nice, but she’s too tired and now she’s warm and comfortable, too. It’ll keep until morning.

She’s asleep before he shuts the door behind him.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one where Harry and Dougie want to help (and Harry wants to be a hero).

“I’m really not interested,” Danny tells the guy, and, seriously, she’s been giving off some pretty strong ‘fuck off’ vibes since he sidled up next to her, but he’s just not getting the hint.

“Yeah, all right,” he says, and brushes a hand down her arm, covering her hand where it rests on the bar.

She grits her teeth. “No, not all right. I said no.” She’s really, really sick of guys like this, wonders how much trouble she’ll get in if she starts another fight.

He just leers at her, and suddenly Dougie’s there, pushing him away.

“Leave her alone,” he says, and Danny’s blinking at him, because, what?

“Dougs, I got it,” she says, but he ignores her, planting himself firmly between her and her would-be seducer.

The guy looks Dougie up and down and raises an eyebrow. Which, yeah, makes sense, because Dougie’s several inches shorter than _she_ is, which makes him almost a head shorter than the guy he’s trying to face down.

“She said she’s not interested, so fuck off,” Dougie’s got his arms crossed over his chest, and Danny knows how foolish it looks, but she’s still kind of touched that he’s standing up for her.

“It’s none of your business, kid,” the guy says, and his lip is curling a bit. “So why don’t _you_ fuck off?” and he shoves Dougie hard enough that he stumbles back and slams into the bar.

“Why don’t you pick on someone your own size?” Harry’s voice growls from behind Danny, and she didn’t even know he was there, but then he’s in front of her, shoving the arsehole guy, and saying, half over his shoulder, “Make sure Dougie’s okay,” and, seriously, _what the fuck?_

The guy comes back swinging, and there are a couple very confusing moments in which Danny really wishes Tom hadn’t stayed home tonight, because she really needs someone sensible right now. Harry gets clipped across the cheek, but he gets a few good body blows in before other people are dragging them apart. Danny blinks, and she and Harry and Dougie are waiting outside for a taxi.

Dougie’s leaning most of his weight on Danny, and she pokes gently at his side where he hit the bar, watching him wince. “Bad here, too?” she asks, prodding his lower back, and he makes a little whimpering noise. She stops. “Sorry,” she says, and leans her forehead against his hair. “You shouldn’t have done it, I could have handled it.”

“You always handle it,” he says. “I just got sick of that guy smarming daggers at you when you kept telling him to bugger off.”

She laughs. “My hero,” she says, rolling her eyes, and adjusts her arm around him so it doesn’t go dead from the weight.

“What about me?” Harry demands.

She looks up at him, surprised by the slightly defensive tone of his voice. He’s got his hands shoved deep in his pockets, and he’s looking a little put out. He’s got a splash of red across his cheek where he got hit that’s probably going to turn into a stunning bruise before morning.

He huffs when she doesn’t say anything, tells her indignantly, “I’m the one who made the fucker back off,” and that look on anyone else would look like a pouting five-year-old, but on Harry it just looks. Hot.

 _Jesus,_ Danny thinks, and starts to laugh, because he’s not even trying.

He frowns at her, but she just reaches out, a little awkwardly with Dougie still leaning on her, and hooks a hand around Harry’s elbow, tugging him closer.

“You’re my hero, too,” she tells him, tips up on her toes and presses a quick kiss to his injured cheek.

A cab pulls up just as she steps back, and she helps Dougie into the back seat, sliding in next to him before Harry can say anything. She gives the driver their address as Harry climbs in next to her and pulls the door shut.

It’s a tight squeeze with all three of them in a row, but they’re warm, and she doesn’t really mind. Dougie’s curled up against her, head on her shoulder, half-asleep, and Harry’s staring out the window, but she thinks she can see a faint flush creeping down his neck whenever they pass under streetlamps.

“Hey,” she says, knocks her elbow against him. “Thanks.”

He doesn’t turn, but she can see the corner of his mouth tilt up in a grin. His fingers find hers on the edge of the seat between their knees and he squeezes them.

She turns their hands so they’re palm to palm, squeezes back.

Neither of them speaks for the rest of the ride, but it’s a comfortable silence, and Harry’s hand is warm in hers the whole way.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one with the guy (guys) who looks (look) like Harry.

His name, it turns out, is Andrew, and Danny lets him take her out for drinks after the match. He’s nice, and funny, and he’s into Arsenal, which could be a problem, but it’s not like she thinks she’s going to see him again, so the incredible blue eyes he’s sporting kind of cancel it out.

“Want to come back to mine?” he asks, and she’s had maybe a few drinks too many, but.

“Yeah,” she says, and remembers to shoot Tom a text message before she shuts her phone off.

+

Danny tries to be careful about bringing people home, because, well, she lives with three guys and it’s frankly just awkward having to explain that, no, really, they’re just friends. She doesn’t mind the ribbing she gets, so much – it’d be pretty hypocritical of her if she did – but she doesn’t like the worried looks Tom sometimes gives her, or the way he’ll casually ask if she needs to get her birth control prescription filled if there was a guy he doesn’t know at the breakfast table. She’s careful, really careful, and she can look after herself.

And so what if she pretends the worried looks are the same when she sees Tom and Dougie exchanging glances the third time in a row a guy with dark brown hair and bright blue eyes gives her a messy kiss goodbye after breakfast? It’s not like it means anything, anyway.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little bit of Junes.

Danny’s maybe a little bit more drunk than she’d originally wanted to be, but she feels good – a little fuzzy, but light and tingly and happy and like she might start giggling at any moment and just not stop. She doesn’t remember what this club is called – isn’t entirely sure she remembers what city they’re in tonight – but the music is good, and she’s only been inappropriately groped once since she came out on the dance floor.

“Danny, it’s time to go,” Harry’s voice is low in her ear, and she turns, sees him behind her, and grins.

“Hey,” she says, grins a little wider, “where’ve you been all night?”

Harry raises an eyebrow at her. “And _you’re_ drunk,” he says, which really isn’t all that fair, because it’s not like she’s even slurring her words. Not badly, anyway.

“Just having a good time,” she tells him.

He rolls his eyes. “Well, it’s time to go. Tom and Dougie took off a bit ago, I said I’d stick around and find you.”

“Stay a bit longer, then,” she says, because she really is having a good time, and their schedule’s pretty tight for the next too-many days, which means no time for going out at night. She doesn’t want to give this up, just yet.

“It’s late, Dan,” he says, catches her arm and tugs a little.

She pulls loose, then wraps both arms around his neck. “Dance with me,” she says, sways a little against him, in time with the crowd that presses around them.

“Danny,” he sounds a little exasperated, but his hands have automatically settled on her hips, steadying her, balancing her out. “We need to go.”

“Just this song,” she lets the other dancers push them a little closer, grins up into his face when he rolls his eyes again.

“You’re incorrigible,” he tells her, and she’s got no idea what that means, but he’s moving with her now instead of standing determinedly still, so she’ll take it as a win.


End file.
